Death is no stranger but a favored guest

whose ways are still unknown, and yet

the darkness into which I float to rest

is kinder than the hearts with which I’ve grown.

Death is no stranger, and yet

Death! Stranger to the thought

than hands to fish,

less welcome that a lure you can’t resist.

Resist me now!

Turn back! Your way is north

and mine is south.

I work toward apple brine,

break of serried hedge,

water pausing and the scrolls of leaf.

I’m going south,

to peace and the song of birds

to a love I thought would never call –

–Death!

No, not me,

not now!

Be content with having the power to make me flee,

content with being the dark I fear,

content with any role you choose

save that of being my deliverer!